Your Sons
by Independence Undervalued
Summary: It doesn't matter what home they live in or what their last names may be. What matters to you is so much more than that. After all, they are your sons.
1. Darry

**A/N: **This is my first shot at the second person POV and also my first attempt at writing Mrs. Curtis.

Major thanks go out to **K. Nefertiti** and **some blue december** for all of their words of advice and looking this over for me.

Just so you know, this will be updated sporadically since I'm kind of writing as I go, so I can't promise a weekly update.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. The marvelous S.E. Hinton does.

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><p>You're in the kitchen making dinner when your oldest son comes in the house. As almost every other night he's filthy from head to toe, but he comes home with a grim expression of pride on his face. At fifteen years old, Darry has made the junior football team and is relishing every moment of it.<p>

Even though he comes home dirtier than you can believe, you're more proud of him than you could ever admit to. You swell with pride whenever someone tells you how wonderful of a player Darry is.

"Go wash up for dinner, honey," you call over your shoulder, trying to focus on the food in front of you.

You don't hear him walk away so you turn around to tell him again. He's sat himself down at the table and the expression on his face stops you - his cheeks are bright red and his hair is a mess, but the look in his eyes is torn between discomfort and uncertainty, setting your mind into motion.

"Dar? You alright?"

He looks at you for a moment before answering, "I dunno, Ma. I guess so."

You sit and look at him carefully, searching for a hint of what is bothering him. "What's on your mind? Normally you're real excited after practice."

"I got in a fight with one of the guys on the team. Coach said neither of us can play in the next game."

The red spot on his left cheek becomes more prominent and you wonder why you didn't notice the clear signs of a bruise forming before. "Darrel, that's not like you to get into a fight. What happened? And where's Ponyboy? I thought you were takin' him to practice with you?"

"I know, Ma. Pony's out on the porch now. I told him to wait there so I could talk to you 'bout what happened."

"Darrel, I want you to tell me what's goin' on right now."

He takes a deep breath and begins talking quietly.

"It was after practice. I was talkin' to Paul and a couple of my other buddies. When Pony came up to me, he was off in his own world, ya know? Well they thought he was…Ma they called him slow. And I just couldn't stand around and let 'em say that. He's my kid brother and I don't care if they're my best buddies. Ponyboy is my brother. So I told Paul to knock it off. I said Pony was a real smart kid, he just didn't like talkin' much. Well they just laughed at him. They _laughed_, Mama. And it just made me so gol dang mad. So I tackled Paul and just started whalin' on him. Coach pulled me off and then me and Pone came straight home. I know you said never to fight unless I had to, but I just couldn't let 'em say those things. I just _couldn't_."

You sit there, thinking over everything your son has just told you, trying to contain the anger bubbling in your stomach. Growing up in Tulsa, there had been Soc's and greasers, but you had always hoped things would be better for your sons. Rage fills you and there is nothing that you want more than to go find those boys and tell them off for harming your sons. It's the fierce mothering instinct in you coming to the surface.

Although the anger you feel is intense, there's another, more powerful feeling that is taking hold; pride. There've been so many moments in Darry's short life that you had felt proud of him - the first football game he played in, the first date he went on, and the day you brought his first baby brother home. Darry had always found a way to make you beam with happiness, but you don't think any of those moments could top what you feel right now.

"Now, Darry you know that I don't believe in fightin'," you start, speaking calmly, "but I do think there are certain times where it's just gotta be done. That bein' said, I understand why you were so upset about what Paul and those boys were tellin' you. There will be times in this life that people treat you in ways that I can't explain. It's not fair, but it's somethin' you have to expect. Those boys were no exception to the rule."

He interrupts you earnestly. "But, Ma they're 'sposed to be my friends. Why'd they go and make fun of a kid like Pony? They don't hardly know him!"

A sad smile makes its way across your face and you say, "Sweetheart, I know it's not right. But you wanna know somethin'? I know two little boys who are lucky to have you as a brother. And I know that one is outside right now, wonderin' the exact same things you are. And you know what else? I couldn't be more proud of you than I am right now, Darry. You did exactly what I always hoped you would. You stood up for your brothers and at the end of the day, they're the ones that will still be there when all of those other 'friends' aren't around no more."

He blushes and waves you off. "Aw, c'mon Ma."

Seeing his embarrassment at your praise draws a light laugh out of you. He reminds you so strongly of your husband in that way; neither of them takes compliments well, tending to simply brush them off. It's something that never fails to make you laugh.

"I know, I know. You want to hear how tuff you are and how much of a man you're becoming. Well guess what. Standing up for your family the way you did today makes you more of a man than those boys that poked fun at an innocent lil' boy. You just remember that, Dar."

You watch as he ponders everything you've just said and you wish you knew what was going through his mind. It makes your heart ache knowing all of the hardships your boys will face in life. You want more than anything you could take all of the conflict away for him so he never has to face the things you did growing up, but you know that's futile. Instead, you can only try and prepare him for it.

"Ma, I think I oughta go and talk to Ponyboy. I don't think he understands why me and Paul was fightin'."

"Why you _were_ fighting, honey," you correct kindly. "But I think you're right. Why don't you go do that now?"

He fixes you with a surprised stare. "Well, don'tcha wanna tell me what I oughta say to him?"

You consider it for a moment, thinking about what it is that you would say to your youngest son. There have been many times before where you've stepped in and done the peace-keeping with your boys and normally, you would be more than willing to do the talking. This time though, you think Darry ought to learn how to handle something along these lines.

"I think you know what to say better than I do, hun."

Standing up, you give him a gentle kiss on the head and go back to finishing dinner. You listen as he walks out onto the porch and reaching over, you quietly open the kitchen window to hear what he says. It's not that you don't trust him to say the right things, but you listen anyways. It always gives you a sense of satisfaction when you see your boys doing right and this is no exception.

"Dar, you didn't hafta get in no fight with your friend. I know you only did it 'cause I was there," Ponyboy says quietly.

You watch as Darry shakes his head firmly and puts an arm around his brother's shoulders. "No way, Pone. I did it 'cause they were wrong. They should never have said what they did, especially since it ain't true."

"You don't think I'm dumb?"

"'Course not, Ponyboy. You're the smartest kid I know."

"Well, how come you always make fun of me 'cause I read and draw instead of playin' football with you and Daddy?" He sounds so innocent and it's that innocence that scares you with him sometimes.

Darry thinks his next words through carefully, reminding you of your husband so vividly once again you have to chuckle. "I think you're real smart, Pone. And just 'cause you don't play ball with me don't mean you're weird or dumb or nothin'. That's what makes you special. You wouldn't be Ponyboy if ya didn't do those things."

He smiles broadly up at his big brother, his green eyes shining brightly. "You really think so, Darry? You think I'm special?"

Your oldest son smiles back. "Sure, Pony. And people may not always understand why you do whatcha do. But don't let that stop you. Just keep on bein' yourself."

"Ya know what, Darry? I hope I get to be like you when I get big. You're the best big brother ever." He crushes him in a large hug and you feel tears sting the back of your eyes.

Deciding that the conversation has been wrapped up, you call out through the house, "Boys, get cleaned up for supper."

You hear Darry holler, "I'll race ya, Pone!"

Pretty soon the two are tearing through the living room, making a beeline for the bathroom sink. Ponyboy is giggling loudly and you turn to see Darry tickling him mercilessly. You watch them with a smile on your face and set their plates on the table.

Just then, your husband and middle son come bounding through the door. The house is filled with loud laughter and chatter, but you can't help but admire the way Darry interacts with his two brothers. He's almost six years older than Ponyboy, something that had always been a worry of yours. You wondered if he would ever be able to relate to the young boy, but you soon discovered those fears were unbased.

As you watch them, Darry smiles broadly at the other boys and they take turns chasing one another down the hallway. Their loud laughter and cheering is contagious, making both you and your husband chuckle quietly. Any other day you may have corrected the boys, but you feel they've earned it today.

At dinner, Darrel Senior asks if anything exciting happened that day. You watch as Darry looks at you for a moment and you can just tell he's trying to decide whether or not he should speak up. Ponyboy became extremely interested in his mashed potatoes and Soda remains happily oblivious.

"I got in a fight with Paul Holden at practice today, Dad. He was makin' fun of Pony and I told him to lay off. I can't play in the next game, but that's alright with me. It ain't alright for 'im to tease my kid brother. Sir." He finishes speaking and stares hard at his plate.

Darrel Senior looks to you and you simply shake your head, smiling gently at him to show that you have already heard what happened. You know that Darry is beating himself up for the fight without needing to be reprimanded and you try to convey that to your husband. He nods and turns his gaze back to his oldest son.

"You mean, it _isn't_ alright for him. And I agree, Darry. I'm proud of you for standin' up for your brother."

You watch as Darry's face lights up at his father's praise, making you feel warm and content inside. It's been clear from a young age that Darry lives for his family, but he always yearns for his father's praise. You simply sit there quietly, beaming at your son with unrivaled pride.

As dinner continues, you find yourself lost in your thoughts about your oldest boy. Someday he will make a great family man. You know that he will treat a woman right and will be a wonderful father to his children.

But the most important thing to you is that you know he will always be able to defend his brothers and not a single thing will be able to harm them while he's around. It's that comfort, that knowledge that he will always be able to be there for them, that eases your mind and helps you sleep at night. Neither you nor your husband have any siblings, so if anything should ever happen, they would have to depend on one another.

Dinner finishes up and it's Darry's turn to help clean the dishes. He stands beside you, focused on the job at hand, so he doesn't notice the emotions welling up inside of you. He's growing into a fine young man and it brings tears of joy to your eyes, along with some tears of sadness. Soon he won't need you at all and will be off living his own life.

"Ma? Are you okay?" His concerned voice snaps you out of your emotional thoughts.

"Oh I'm just fine, Darry. Why don't you go on out and play with your brothers. I'll finish up in here."

He looks at you for a moment and you can almost see the gears turning in his analytical head. Then he envelopes you in a tight hug, which you lovingly return, holding him close to you.

"I love you, Mom."

Those simple words set those brimmed tears flowing and you don't trust yourself to say much. He's getting to that age where it's not as "tuff" for a teenage boy to show affection to his mother, but this display means more to you than words can express. Emotions well up inside you and choke you with their power.

Instead of coming up with a long, meaningful speech like you wish you could, you just hold him tighter and whisper, "I love you too, Darry."

He's your oldest boy. He's the one that will lead the others and the one that doesn't go a day without making you proud. He's your son, Darry Curtis.

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading this chapter(: Feel free to point out any mistakes that were made. And if you see instances where I need to "show instead of tell", please please point them out. I'm still working on grasping that concept.


	2. Two Bit

**A/N: **Again, huuuuuge thanks to **K. Nefertiti** for taking time to read over this and for both her advice and guidance(: She's amazing.

Lucky you guys! I got this chapter written and edited pretty dang fast, soo you're getting rewarded haha. Hope you enjoy it.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders._

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><p>The grocery store is peaceful and practically empty, so it's not hard for you to hear the commotion that starts just a couple aisles away. From the sound of it, someone has tried lifting something and has been caught red-handed. You don't think anything of it until you hear his young voice hollering back.<p>

"I didn't do nothin'! I ain't a thief."

You head towards the source of the voice and sure enough, Two-Bit Mathews is standing in the middle of the aisle with Mr. Conroy, the manager. The eight year old is red-faced and hollering at the top of his lungs while Mr. Conroy stands in front of him, holding a pink baby doll in his large hands.

"I got this out of your jacket, young man! Don't lie to me! We're goin' to have to take a little walk to my office and call your mother. See what she has to say about you stealing from me."

Two-Bit's face blanches and you step in. "Mr. Conroy, I don't think that will be necessary."

Still maintaining a firm grip on the young greaser, he turns and sees you observing the confrontation. Tipping his head in acknowledgement, the manager says, "Mrs. Curtis, as always it's nice to see you. If you could just wait a few minutes while I deal with this young hoodlum – "

"Actually that's what I want to talk to you about." Two-Bit's eyes get even rounder as he stares at you. "I know his mother quite well and she won't be home if you try calling her. Why don't you let me take him on home and I'll have a word with Virginia when she gets out of work?"

The youngster is calculating what you say as the manager does the same. You can tell Conroy is caving in though, especially since you're one of his favorite customers.

Conroy shifts his feet nervously under your firm gaze. "Well I dunno, Mrs. C. I'm _technically_ supposed to let his parents know since it is illegal for him to shoplift."

Smiling warmly at him, you reply, "Oh I know it's illegal, Mr. Conroy. But I also know that you won't be able to reach his parents at home right now, so there's no point in keepin' him here, now is there?"

His beady eyes size you up and you watch the fight go out of him. "Alright, alright, just this once. And only because I know you'll take care of this young man and straighten him out."

Mr. Conroy releases his firm grip on Two-Bit's arm and warily, the boy walks over to your side.

"Thank you so much for your cooperation, Mr. Conroy. I'm sure this won't happen again. Now before we head on out, would you be ever so kind as to let me use your phone? I need to let my husband know that Two-Bit will be coming over."

He nods quickly. "Of course! My office phone is right through those doors."

You hurry into the office and dial Two-Bit's house. It rings a few times before his mother finally picks up.

"C-Charlie, is that you?"

Frowning at the desperation in her voice, you quickly say, "No Ginny, its Amelia Curtis. Why were you expecting Charlie?"

"Oh it's nothing. W-What do you need, Amy? I'm awful busy right now and – oh gosh. Is Two-Bit at your house? He just left and I dunno where he went! "

You debate for a moment between telling her the truth and keeping it from her, but something in her voice tells you to be kind. "Yes, yes, he's right here with me. He seems a bit upset and since the boys aren't home right now, I told Two-Bit I'd get him a milkshake before I brought him home. Is that alright with you?"

She sighs in relief. "Yes that would be wonderful. Amy, thank you so much. I really have to go now though - Bonnie's cryin' and everything's a mess. Just bring him by later on."

"Alright dear. Take care."

You head back out to where Conroy and Two-Bit are waiting and smile kindly. "Thank you, Mr. Conroy. And like I said, this won't happen again. I assure you." You silently pray that it's the truth.

"Come along, Two-Bit."

All shopping forgotten, you walk calmly out of the store with the ashamed child dragging a few steps behind. Once inside your car, you head over to Kirby's Diner in hopes of talking to your son's friend and seeing just what possessed him to begin behaving like a thief. Fear grips your heart in its iron fist and you pray once more that Two-Bit won't be turn out to be just like his father.

As he realizes that you aren't taking him straight home where his mother is waiting, Two-Bit grows a bit more talkative. "Where we gonna go, Mrs. Curtis?"

"I think we need to have ourselves a little talk. What do you think about that, Two-Bit?" You pull into Kirby's parking lot just then and his previous offense is forgotten.

"Oh gosh, we're gonna eat here! I just love them shakes they got and – wait a second. Why are we here?" His enthusiasm quickly gives way to skepticism and it makes you chuckle softly.

"C'mon. Let's go get one of those shakes."

He fixes you with a doubtful glance, but follows you inside nonetheless. The waitress leads you to a booth and as you sit down, Two-Bit hesitates.

"Sit down, Two-Bit. Your mother is busy with your sister right now and I told her I would take care of you for the afternoon."

"Didja tell her what happened?" His gray eyes stare at you with a hint of fear in them as he climbs into the booth across from you.

Folding your hands on the table, you quietly reply, "No I didn't. I didn't want to worry her about something like that just yet. Now why don't you tell me what happened, hm?"

His breath leaves in him a great sigh and he kicks his legs nervously and he half-heartedly responds, "I didn't steal nothin'."

"Two-Bit, lying isn't going to help you any. Might as well tell me the truth."

"Well I only did it 'cause he wrecked Bonnie's favorite baby! And she was cryin' and it was makin' Mama sad. I thought I could just give her a new baby. But mean ole Conroy took the new one away and told me that I was a no good thief. I ain't a thief! I was bein' nice, like Mama always told me to be."

Slowly you attempt to put the pieces together. "Who hurt Bonnie's baby?"

"Dad did." His answer was quiet and solemn, stirring your curiosity.

"Well why would your dad do somethin' like that?"

He looks up at you and your breath catches in your throat. His gray eyes are burning with anger far too powerful for an eight year old to harbor. "'Cause he didn't want her no more I guess. He said that we ain't got the money for stupid babies or for us kids. Ma told him he was crazy and he hit…well I don't ever wanna see him again."

"Did he hurt your mother, Two-Bit," you ask tensely, your heart simply breaking for the child sitting in front of you.

Two-Bit settled for nodding once. "Then he left in our car. He says he ain't ever comin' back and ya know what Mrs. Curtis? I'm glad. Bonnie is just a lil' kid…why'd he gotta hurt her baby? Was it 'cause I broke the T.V. again? I didn't mean to."

You make your way over to where the sniffling child sits and you wrap your arms around him gently. It's never occurred to you before now that this boy is just as sensitive as Ponyboy. Two-Bit has always been the laughing one, the one that's just as strong as Darry. Seeing him shedding these pained tears brings your own tears to your eyes.

"You wanna know a secret, Two-Bit? I've never told anybody this," you mock whisper, drawing his attention immediately.

"Yeah, I'm a real good secret keeper. You can tell me."

"Okay, I'll tell you then. When I was just a little older than you, my daddy left my family too. And I didn't know why. I thought it was something I did, but you know what? It wasn't my fault. And just 'cause your daddy left, that doesn't mean it's your fault either. Sometimes things just happen. But you have to know that it's nothing you did."

Two-Bit studies you for a minute before sniffling quietly. "I'm awful sorry your daddy left too. That ain't right. I just wish I knew why he went and hurt Bonnie's baby. It's just not fair."

"I don't know why he did that, honey. But you know what? I think Bonnie would be happy if you gave her the old baby back. What do you think of that?"

He shrugged sadly. "Sure. Only Dad pulled on her so hard he near pulled her head off. I don't think Bonnie can play with the baby like that. That's why I was fixin' to get her a new one."

"Well what if I fixed her up for you? Would you like that?"

"Can you really do that?" His face lit up with excitement and you could see the pure adoration in his eyes.

Smiling gently at him, you say, "Sure. We can even get her a nice new dress as a special present. But Two-Bit, I want you to promise me somethin'. Promise that you're not gonna go stealin' anymore. It's gonna get you in trouble one day and I know you don't want that to happen, now do you?"

He shakes his head slowly, but a frown is creasing his forehead. "But that's what Dad always did. He never bought me presents or nothin'. He'd just pick 'em up real calm like and wink at me. Then he'd just walk out the store."

"Do you wanna be like your daddy, Two-Bit?"

His reaction is much stronger this time, making you laugh. "No. I don't wanna be mean like him. I wanna be nice so I can make Mama and Bonnie happy, not sad."

"Well you just remember that every time you think about stealin' somethin'. It's not right to do and you know it. So, can you promise that you'll at least try for me?"

"Sure, I'll do my best."

The waitress brings your milkshakes to the table and Two-Bit dives in hungrily. You laugh to yourself as you watch him, burrowing his sorrows under with a tall strawberry shake. It makes you feel much better to know that you did your part in getting him back on the right track.

"Mrs. Curtis?"

He's staring up at you with milkshake dripping from his chin. "Yes, honey?"

"Thanks."

You smile at him and give him a gentle, one-armed hug. "You're more than welcome. How's your milkshake?"

Grinning, he nods vigorously and dives back in. You sip the vanilla shake in front of you slowly and thank God for giving you a good husband that you know would never put your sons through what Charlie Mathews did to his family.

Even after all these years, it still brings a dull ache to your chest when you think of your father walking out of the door of your home when you were just eleven years old. You had always wondered why he had left and for the longest time you blamed yourself. Seeing Two-Bit asking the same questions that you did for so many years makes you realize just how wrong both of those men were in leaving their families.

Though you know he doesn't deserve what is happening to him, you're sure that Two-Bit will take the experience and make something out of it. You're confident that when he finally finds the girl for him, he'll stick by her until the end of time.

He may not be yours by blood, but you love Two-Bit just like your own sons. Watching him now, you know that he will be vital to your boy's circle of friends. He's the one that will hold it all together, but keep the rest laughing. He's your son, Two-Bit Mathews.

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks again for givin' this a shot! (: Can you guess who's chapter is next?


	3. Dallas

**A/N: **I have to give major deds to **K. Nefertiti **for reading this stuff over for me and giving me amazing feedback. Especially since I struggled sooo much with this chapter.

This is definitely my favorite chapter so far, so I really couldn't wait to post it. Hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_.

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><p>The courtroom is bustling and filled with people you've never seen before. Many of them you'd be afraid to come across outside of the court, even in the middle of the day on the busiest street corner. There aren't many family members sitting in the waiting area, so you're left to your observations.<p>

You fiddle with the edge of your skirt and sigh for what seems like the hundredth time, waiting for him to be brought out. A few minutes later the side door opens and the white blonde boy you've been waiting for walks slowly out, accompanied by a severe looking guard.

You feel a brief wave of relief flow through you as you see he isn't cuffed, but your eyes narrow as you notice the guard's firm grip cutting into the boy's upper arm. Mothering instincts take over and you shake your head slightly at his dirty jeans and wrinkled t-shirt. You wish you had been able to bring him a change of clothes.

As he heads towards the defense podium, he lifts his head and his gaze lands on you. Dally's eyes widen in surprise and an expression of immense shame spreads across his youthful features. You try to smile encouragingly at him, but you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes and it turns into more of a grimace. He swallows firmly and turns to face the judge.

Judge Riley quickly skims over the papers in front of him and looks down his long nose at the child standing in front of him.

"It says here your name is Dallas Winston. How old are you, son?"

He visibly cringes before muttering his response to the judge.

"You'll have to speak up, young man," the robed man calls out.

"Twelve."

You can't keep your knee from bouncing anxiously. Dallas had been arrested for minor vandalism and brought to court to get arraigned. Sitting there waiting for the judge to announce his decision, you silently pray over and over that this judge shows him some mercy.

"Well it appears that you don't have much of a record, Dallas. It says here that you were incarcerated just after you turned ten for petty theft, but the charges were dropped. That bein' said, I'm all for redeemin' yourself in society and I'm a firm believer in the givin' folks the opportunity to change. You're a very young man, Mr. Winston, so let me be clear. Do you plan on vandalizing again?"

"No, sir."

"Do you plan on appearin' in my courtroom again?"

"No, sir."

The elderly judge sizes the humble looking boy up and sighs heavily before pressing on. "I hope that's the truth because I can promise you I won't be so kind next time. You've already spent a couple of nights in jail and I hope that was enough time for you to repent, son. Take what I'm tellin' you today and learn from it. I don't ever wanna see you standin' there again."

The judge bangs his gavel and the process is over. You stand quickly and when Dally turns around, he meets your eyes once more. Clenching your jaw, you keep your emotions in line and hope that he can see how disappointed you are. His blue eyes cloud over and he drops his head sullenly.

Turning to the attorney standing beside the youngster, you smile tightly. "Thank you, Mr. Davenport."

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk quickly out of the courtroom. Until you get home you refuse to let out the torrent of emotion you feel chipping away at your nerves.

XxX

You fiercely chop at the onions on the countertop, sniffing back the tears that have sprung to your eyes. Whether they're from the pain in your heart or the sting of the smell you're not sure and frankly, it doesn't matter. Either way, you focus on the action at hand and push away the rest.

The boys are out in the backyard playing football loudly. Every once in a while you hear Ponyboy complaining loudly about something that Steve has done, but otherwise they seem to be fine. There's only one boy missing from the racket.

As you work, the front door squeaks shut meaning that someone has entered the house. You listen to their footsteps as they head towards where you stand in the kitchen, but then they hesitate in the doorway. It isn't hard for you to guess who it is.

"The boys are out back, Dallas," you say quietly without looking back at him.

"I know," he mumbles, shuffling his feet.

You sigh and set the knife down before turning to face him. When you do, it feels as if he has picked the blade up and plunged it into your chest, twisting it the whole time. You know that he feels guilty about what happened, but that doesn't change the immense disappointment and sadness that you feel.

Swallowing that back, you settle for asking, "Is there something else?"

He brings his gaze up and meets yours again, shame showing plainly on his young features. "Mrs. C, I'm sorry."

You shake your head slowly and frown. "Dallas, I'm very disappointed in you right now. I know that you don't want to turn out the same way that your father did and this is no way to go about that."

The whole time you're speaking, he can't meet your gaze. He rubs his arm with his left hand and glances around the room, looking anywhere but your face. When you finish your minor rampage, he sighs heavily and shrugs.

"I dunno. I couldn't help it."

"Yes you can, Dallas," you cry, exasperated. "You _can_ help it, you just choose _not_ to."

You turn back to the counter and resume your work, trying to ignore the boy's presence in the room. After a few minutes you notice he hasn't moved and sigh, turning to face him again. You're shocked to see him sitting at the table, his head in his hands.

"Dally, sweetheart you have to listen to me. If you don't try, you'll never be able to stop this. I don't want you to grow up in a jail cell." Your voice trembles with emotion and he lowers his hands slowly.

He looks at you with tears bright in his sad eyes. "I know, but I dunno why I did it. Tim was there and his buddy, Tony. They were doin' it and I just…I didn't want them to call me a pussy," he trails off, blushing profusely.

You choose to ignore the slip of tongue and instead take one of his clenched fists in your hand, gently squeezing it. "There is nothing wrong with you, Dally. What's wrong is that you were brought up thinkin' that the law was meant to be broken. _That_ is what's wrong here."

He frowns at you. "What d'you mean? What's wrong with how I was brought up?"

"It's not an insult, Dallas. That's the truth. Your father didn't do you any justice raisin' you the way he did and I don't think you disagree."

"Yeah, alright. My ole man ain't worth anything, but don't say a word 'bout my ma." You hear the defensive tone that appears in his voice when his mother is brought up and you wonder what provoked that response.

"Dallas, where is she right now," you ask quietly, though you think you know his answer already.

"She's in New York and I'm here, I know! But that don't mean she ain't a good Ma, alright," he shouts, shoving away from the table.

You let him pace angrily in the kitchen, waiting until he burns some of the anger off until you try to speak to him again. His steps eventually begin to slow and he leans wearily against the counter. You feel that ache in your chest as you realize he has already begun to act like a bitter old man at the age of just twelve.

"Dallas I won't say anything against her if you don't want me to, but what breaks my heart is that she sent you away. I will say this much – you deserve better. Don't ever kid yourself into thinking you don't."

Silently he ponders what it is you're telling him and you pat his arm gently before resuming your cooking. When you hear him get up from the table, you're not surprised. But when the back door doesn't open, you glance behind you to see what the young boy is up to. He stands behind you with an uncertain expression.

"Could I, um, well I mean do you need any, uh, you know …" he stammers nervously.

It brings a pleased smile to your face and you grab a wooden spoon from the drawer, extending it to him. "Would you like to help me finish up in here, Dally? I sure could use the help."

He grins at you and nods, taking the spoon from your hand and staring at the red sauce that's cooking on the stove. "It looks like mashed brains."

You can't help but laugh at his deduction and it makes him chuckle quietly as well. "Here, why don't you have a taste and see if it tastes like brains too."

Dally takes a small taste of the sauce and he smacks his lips happily. "Nope. It tastes real good, Mrs. C."

"I'm glad, hun."

The two of you work quietly together – with you adding ingredients over his shoulder and him stirring the sauce steadily. Eventually it's ready to be taken off the stove and you watch with a careful eye as he lifts the pot and sets it gingerly on the counter. Without thinking, he turns to see if you approve of the way he did it and you simply smile at him.

"You did a great job, Dally. I don't think I've ever made sauce that tastes this good. Must be your good stirring that did the job."

He shrugs casually, but you tell he's pleased. You wipe your hands quickly on your apron and point him towards the sink.

"Go wash your hands and I think you can still make it for the rest of the boys' football game out back."

He heads over towards the sink and you hear him turn the water on. You turn your attention back to the boiling noodles in front of you and smile absentmindedly as you think about the tow-headed child helping you cook dinner.

Dally clears his throat and you look back to see him hesitating by the back door. "Yes, Dallas?"

"Thanks, Mo – Sorry. I mean, Mrs. C," he amends quickly, looking nervous at the slip.

You look closely at him, waiting until he holds your gaze before speaking. "Don't ever be sorry, Dally. I want you to promise me somethin'. Can you do that?"

Dal shrugs and says, "Sure."

"If you ever need somethin' – a place to stay or food to eat – I want you to come here. I don't care what time it is, Dallas. That door is always going to be open for you, but I want you to stay out of trouble. That's the deal; you stay outta trouble and I'll make sure your father doesn't bother you too much. Deal?"

He smiles at you and wraps you in a one-armed hug. "Sure thing, Mrs. C. I promise."

With that, Dally hurries out of the kitchen and you see him dash off of the steps, tackling Two-Bit in the process. You smother a loud laugh and shake your head at your boys' antics. The group of seven boys in your backyard never fail to keep you entertained and when Dally is in their midst, there's always even more to enjoy.

You watch through the small window as he wraps an arm around Johnny Cade's shoulders and keeps an eye on the other boys playing football. Steve tackles Ponyboy during a play and the two of them get into another heated argument. You sigh and prepare to go intervene, but are pleasantly surprised when Dally steps in.

He talks quietly, giving Steve a stern look before turning to Ponyboy and grinning at him. Steve shakes his head, but walks over to where Soda waits nearby and they begin roughhousing, indicating that whatever was about to happen has been dispersed. Dally playfully shoves Ponyboy before he sits on the grass, chatting with the other boys.

What on Earth does that boy see in Tim Shepard, you wonder. Kids like the Shepards already have a bad name in the neighborhood for the number of minor crimes they've committed and the volume level that arises from the battles between their mother and stepfather.

You feel bad for them, but you still don't want your own children getting mixed up with them. You also don't want the eldest Shepard influencing Dally. Tim just turned thirteen and seems to have a knack for finding trouble – something that Dallas needs no help with.

Sighing, you hope that you got through to Dally this afternoon. It's a thought that keeps you up some nights – wondering if you can make enough of an impact in his life or if he'll just travel the same path that those around him seem to take. You hate to consider Dally following in Tim's footsteps, but there's something about him that makes you fear the probability.

Though many wouldn't believe it if you told them this, you feel that Dallas has a fragile innocence about him and you are trying to nurture as best as you can to keep it from shattering completely. He's not the easiest case of them all, but you're going to try your hardest to do him justice.

His mother has long since stepped out of the picture, but you are more than willing to step in. He is the one that you pray the hardest for each night - hoping that you can be the one to set him on the right track but fearing that you can't. He's the most vulnerable of them all and the one that's going to need constant, patient coaching. He's your son, Dallas Winston.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **As always, thanks.


	4. Steve

**A/N: **As always, huge deds to **K. Nefertiti **for going over these chapters with a fine tooth comb and helping me develop my writing.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_.

* * *

><p>You stand silently among the dozens of mourners surrounding the freshly dug grave. Soda sniffles quietly beside you and you instinctively draw him to you. Darry stands silently nearby, looking solemnly at the mahogany casket. You glance around and take in the crowd that has gathered to remember Sarah Jane Randle.<p>

Many of their faces just blur together, but you see your husband standing beside Tom Randle with an arm kindly placed around his shoulders. The once proud and tall man now appears like a balloon that has lost all of its air. Your heart breaks just seeing him.

Beside Tom stands his nine-year-old son, Steve. The normally vibrant, sarcastic boy has his jaw clenched tightly and is continuously blinking away pesky tears. He is Soda's best friend and you are just as fond of him as the rest of your boys. To watch him struggle with his emotions hurts you almost as much as it is hurting him.

And losing Sarah was something none of you expected. She had been your dearest friend for the longest time and now she was gone; that damned cancer made sure of that. The grief following the loss weighs heavily on your heart and you swallow the thick lump in your throat.

Once the service ends, everyone disperses and heads in different directions. But Tom and Steve seem frozen, both of their gazes glued to the reminder of what they've lost. Your husband leans over and speaks in Tom's ear and he nods slowly. Tom squeezes Steve's shoulder and steers him in the direction of their beat up car.

Darrel comes over to your side and envelopes you in a warm hug. "I told Tommy to head on over to our house so they aren't alone."

"Good idea," you murmur before turning to your sons. "Come on boys. Let's go home."

They all turn to walk away, but before you join them you look once more at the casket holding your dearest friend. Tears escape the corners of your eyes and you sniff once.

"Don't you worry about Steve, Sarah Jane. He'll be just fine with us and Tom. I miss you, sweetie."

With your final goodbye said, you head to your husband's car and climb in. Soda's sniffling in the backseat and Darry has an arm wrapped gently around him. The car lurches forward and you focus your gaze in front of you, trying to ignore the pain.

XxX

Once you all arrive home you notice that Tom's car is already in the driveway. Your sons clamber out of the car and Soda runs towards the house, his normally loud personality quieted by the sadness of the day. Darry trudges alongside his father and heads inside. You're not sure why you're dawdling, but you can't seem to bring yourself to enter your house.

When a good enough excuse fails to appear, you make yourself move forward. Hearing Tom and your husband's low voices rumbling in the living room, you hesitate on the porch.

"I dunno what I'm gonna do now, Darrel. Sarah … she meant the world to me." His voice cracks the entire time he talks and you can just imagine the look on his face.

"You're gonna pull through this, Tommy. That's what she woulda wanted you to do. You and Steve are gonna stick it out and do just fine." You smile at the passion and conviction in your husband's voice.

Tom groans. "He's a spittin' image of her, ain't he? God just lookin' at him, all I can see is her," he drifts off hopelessly.

"Well that oughta be a good thing, Tom. That way you can still see a part of her, no matter where she may be. Enjoy that and take care of it. Steve's more like his mother than he realizes. Make sure he don't lose that."

Tired of standing, you push open the squeaky front door and both of the men glance up. Tom's eyes are bloodshot, but he manages a weak smile in your direction.

"Thanks for comin' today, Amy. I know – I know it woulda meant a lot to 'er." He stares back at the beer in his hands, blinking fiercely.

"Of course, Tom. If there is anything we can do, just let us know."

He nods and falls silent. Darrel gives you a sympathetic look and then looks back at his childhood buddy. You smile at the two men sitting on the couch, glad to know that Tom will have your husband to depend on to get him through this. It's hard to imagine what would happen to him, or even Steve, if they didn't have anyone to turn to at this point.

Quietly, you head down the hallway to your room, overcome with the weight of the loss. When you pass your boy's rooms, you notice that Soda's bedroom door is cracked slightly and you hear the boy's quiet voices inside.

Poking your head inside, you ask, "Do you boys want anything from the kitchen?"

Soda looks back at you sadly. "No thanks, Mama. We're just gonna sit in here for a lil' bit."

You hope to see how Steve's holding up, but his back is turned to the door. With one last nod, you back away slowly and go to your own room. Exhausted, you collapse onto your bed and cover your eyes with your arm. Grief overwhelms you and you can't help but remember all of the times that you had with Sarah.

_It was the first, beautiful day of spring and you were ready to get out of the house. You had called Sarah and made plans to meet her at the small park just a few blocks away from your house. Once you finally got the fidgety Soda ready, you headed out._

_Soda and Steve were both three years old, playing on the swing set while you chatted with Sarah on the bench nearby. The two of you kept a careful eye on your boys, but it was nice to get a chance to go out with your good friend._

"_Good heavens, Amy. How do you get Soda to sit still? He's so energetic," Sarah exclaimed, sending both of you into fits of laughter._

"_Oh I know. He's a bundle of energy, that one. But he keeps me laughing," you replied, smiling fondly at the son that reminds you so much of yourself._

_She smiled as well, her bright green eyes lighting up. "Sounds just like my Stevie. Goodness that boy doesn't have a drop of Tom in him, I swear. Except how loud he can get. Don't ever take one of his toys away or the whole dang town might hear him shoutin'."_

"_Like you don't have your own temper, Sarah," you teased._

"_Alright, alright. Maybe he does get it from me." _

_It was clear that Sarah was more proud of her son than she was of anything in the world. She watched him warmly the entire time you sat at the park, beaming at him regardless of what he did. It made you chuckle the way she made such a fuss over him._

"_I'll bet if I asked, Tom would say he got it from him. You two just crack me up."_

_She shrugged lightly, smirking the entire time. "He always says that Stevie got my looks and his personality. Either way, that boy is somethin' else."_

"_He certainly is, Sarah."_

_The two of you sat for the longest time, just idly chatting about meaningless things. You didn't accomplish anything, but talking to your best friend and watching your sons enjoy themselves made that day one of the nicest days you had._

"Mama?" Breaking through your thoughts, Soda makes his way slowly into your bedroom and sits himself on the bed beside you.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Could you maybe go an' talk to Stevie? He's real sad 'bout his mom and I thought maybe you could make 'im feel better." He stares at his hands while talking, his legs kicking absentmindedly.

You pull him close to you and kiss his golden hair. "Of course I will, Soda. Is he in your room still?"

He shakes his head and corrects you. "He went out to the porch."

As you stand to go outside, a hand closes around a fold of your skirt and stops you. Soda peers up at you with his big brown eyes and you see fear staring you in the eye.

"What is it, honey?"

"I – I just want you to know I love you, Mama." He squeezes you as tight as he can before slowly releasing you.

"I love you too, Sodapop Curtis. More than you will ever know," you reassure him, smiling warmly.

You go out onto your front porch and spot the child sitting dejectedly on the porch step, chipping at the paint with his thumb. At the sound of your footsteps he stiffens and looks to see who is joining him. Seeing you, the anguish in his eyes becomes painfully obvious and he hangs his head once more.

"Do you mind if I join you out here, Steve?"

He shakes his head slowly and sniffles once, moving over so you can sit beside him on the step. Gingerly you sit beside him and observe the child, trying to decide just how much you should try to get out of him.

"Have you eaten any breakfast today, hun?"

Again Steve shakes his head, muttering quietly, "Dad forgot to make it. 'S alright though, I ain't all that hungry anyway."

You nod and struggle to find something to say. It strikes you as odd that you can't think of what to talk to a nine-year-old about, but you are dumbfounded.

"I really miss her, Mrs. Curtis. It ain't even been a week. I just want Mama to come home." His quiet voice breaks the silence and you feel the lump in your throat grow.

"Oh I know you do sweetie. I know you miss her and I know your mama misses you too." You wrap an arm around his stiff shoulders and he melts into your side.

"Why did she hafta go? Dad told me that she went up to heaven, but I wish she just stayed right here." By now, tears are pouring down his pale cheeks and you feel your own stinging the corners of your eyes.

"Steve, honey I know you do. I wish she'd stayed too. But your mama is happy now. She's not hurtin' anymore and she can watch over you every single day."

Steve looks up at you with Sarah's bright green eyes and sniffs. "D'you really think she's happy, Mrs. Curtis? I'm scared she's lonely. 'Cause me and Dad are down here and she's all by herself now."

"I'm sure she's happy. And I'm sure she misses you very, very much, but now she's healthy and keepin' an eye on you. She's not gone forever, Stevie."

That does the trick and the child breaks down in tears beside you. His sobs rack his small body and you wrap him in your arms, rocking him gently. You feel your own tears break loose and for a few minutes, the two of you simply release the anguish inside.

After a few minutes his sobs start to slow and he begins to hiccup, still whimpering quietly. You take a deep breath to calm your own emotions and try to think of something soothing to tell the poor child, but when it comes to death you know that there is little comfort in words.

"I've got an idea," you say after a bit of thinking. "Why don't you write your mother a letter? You don't have to let anyone else read it, so it can be a special letter just for her."

He sniffles quietly and looks up at you with a small frown on his face. "Nobody else is gonna read it?"

"Not if you don't want them to. And then you can go and put it with the flowers that you left her. That way it's right there with her."

Steve thinks over what you've said and before long he slowly nods. "Alright. I guess I could do that. But Mrs. Curtis? I sure am gonna miss Mom."

You hug him gently and kiss the top of his head. "I know you do, sweetheart. It will get better though. I promise. You just gotta take good care of your daddy now and make your mama real proud. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yeah, I can do it."

"Good. I knew you could. Now, why don't you go and get Soda and I'll get you boys a nice bowl of ice cream?"

A faint smile makes its way across his pale face and he says, "Sure."

With that, he clambers up and trudges back inside. Before he goes down the hallway, Steve goes to his father's side and gives him a firm hug.

You're close enough to hear as he whispers to him. "It's gonna be okay, Dad. I love you."

When Steve disappears down the hallway, you make your way into the kitchen. Like the child did, you hesitate by your husband's chair. You wrap him in your arms and kiss his cheek softly, hoping to convey to him just how thankful you are he is still there. He squeezes your arm in return and you go serve up the two bowls of ice cream you've promised the boys.

Sarah had been your closest friend, just like her son is Soda's. He has always been a kind-hearted child with a rash temper and you're scared to think about what this loss could do to him. He's more impressionable now than ever before. Even though he's stubborn and quick to lash out, you love him just the same. He's your son, Steve Randle.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for stickin' this out. For all of you die-hards, yes Soda is next.

I'm gonna be honest, I've kind of lost inspiration for this so that's why the chapters are coming way slower. Not to mention college is starting again soon and both my beta and I are quite busy. Sorry about that, but I am going to finish the story. Don't worry.


	5. Sodapop

**A/N: **Massive thanks to **K. Nefertiti **for making this story what it is with all of her editing and advice. She's fantastic.

I am so sorry for the wait on this one and the fact that it is the shortest chapter thus far. Honestly, I have like nooo time anymore. Most of this has been edited, but not all of it. Please be patient haha. This story is almost finished.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_.

* * *

><p>"Ready or not, here I come!" Soda's seven-year-old voice echoes throughout the quiet house and you grin as he bounds through the living room to search for a hiding Ponyboy.<p>

"Mama, is So-pop gone?" Ponyboy peeps out from inside the front closet and you have to bite back your laugh.

"He's lookin' in the kitchen now, hun."

He beams at you and holds a finger to his lips. "Don't tell!"

You hold a finger to your lips and nod. Ponyboy disappears back into the closet and the house falls silent except for Soda occasionally slamming doors searching for his younger brother. After a few minutes, Soda rushes back into the living room and all hint of cheer is gone from his face.

"Mama, I dunno where Pone is! I looked all over 'cause we was playin' hide-n-seek. I promise I didn't mean to lose 'im!"

Before you can reassure him, he frantically begins searching the living room again, glancing under the couches and behind the TV. Ponyboy's tuft of reddish hair reappears from the closet and giggling loudly, he rushes over to embrace his big brother.

"I's right here, So-pop! I won, huh? I hide real good!"

Soda ignores the questions and excitement and fiercely hugs Ponyboy to him. "Don't you ever run off like that 'gain, Pony. I thought you was lost 'er somethin'."

You bite back a laugh as Pony mumbles out. "So-pop, can't breathe!"

Grudgingly, Soda releases his little brother and puts his hands on Pony's shoulders. "Promise you won't do that never again. 'Kay?"

Tilting his head, Pony asks, "How come? I thought I was 'sposed to hide? Am I bad?"

"No, no! You ain't bad, Ponyboy! You did real good hidin'. But don't get lost like that. 'Kay?"

"'Kay, So-pop." Pony hugs him again and trots off down the hallway, coughing slightly as he goes.

You make a mental note to call the doctor about that cough and Soda clambers onto your lap. Grinning at the lively child, you bounce your knees, drawing loud laughs out of him. After a few minutes he calms back down and looks up at you seriously.

"Mama, next time I don't think Pony oughta be the hider. I think I oughta hide."

"Well now I don't think that would be fair for him, now would it? He's so little, he wouldn't be able to be as good of a looker as you. Why don't you want him to be the hider?"

Glancing around to be sure no one was listening, Soda leans in and whispers in your ear. "'Cause I's scared I'm gonna lose 'im again."

A memory tugs at the edges of your mind and you remember something very similar happening to you when you were Soda's age. Your younger sister, Lillian, had been playing tag when she had suddenly disappeared.

"Lily! Where'd you go, Lil? I'm not fallin' for your tricks this time," you'd yelled loudly, smirking because you knew she was just teasing you.

But after a few moments of silence, something settled like lead in the pit of your stomach and you began running, searching the entire park for your red-headed sister. Loud splashing drew your attention and you felt your heart stop when you realized Lily fell into the nearby lake. Worse, Lily didn't know how to swim.

"Lily!" A scream tore loose from your lips and you raced towards the water's edge, seeing clearly that your sister was in serious trouble.

"Help me! Amy!" Her small arms waved frantically for you and without a second thought you rushed into the lake.

It felt like she was miles away from you rather than a mere dozen feet. Your heart pounded recklessly in your chest and you struggled to keep from screaming in terror. Somehow you knew that you had to keep calm for her.

Your dress was both weighing you down and slowing your progress, but before long you reached your struggling sister. Wrapping you arms firmly around her, you began pulling her towards the shore. After what seemed like ages, you made it to the ground and heaved your sister to safety.

"Lily, are you alright," you panted, exhaustion catching up with you all at once.

She stared at you with wide green eyes, her face pale and drawn, before bursting into loud tears. "Amy, I-I-I thought I w-was gonna si-ink!"

You wrapped her shaking form in your arms and rocked her gently, just like your mama always did whenever you had a nightmare. "I'm never gonna let nothin' happen to you, Lillian. I promise."

Sniffling, she looked up at you and you felt your heart clench at the trust in her gaze. Even with tears running down her cheeks and her thumb in the corner of her mouth, she looked completely confident in what you were saying to her.

"Okay, Amy. Fank you for gettin' me. You're the bestest big sister." She squeezed you as tightly as her four-year-old arms could manage and you squeezed gently back, never wanting to let her go.

You shake away the memories, blinking away a few tears and focus on your beaming boy in front of you. His smile is infectious and you have to smile back at him. Soda has the gift of bringing joy to those around him, something that you truly admire in the youngster.

"Why don't you go on down to your room and play with Ponyboy for a little while. Your daddy will be home soon and then it'll be supper time, alright?"

"Okay, Mama!" He plants a sloppy kiss on your cheeks and bounds down the hallway, hollering to high heaven for his kid brother.

In the silence following his absence, you find yourself staring at the phone. You wish that you could call Lillian up and tell her all about your boys, especially since Ponyboy looks just like she did that age. A pang goes through you as you force yourself to accept the fact that your baby sister has been gone for nearly five years and nothing will bring her back.

Both she and her husband, Richie, were out celebrating their anniversary when someone decided to hold up the restaurant they were at. Trying to protect the other customers, Richie had attempted to overpower the gunman and in the process was shot. Lillian was killed when she tried to get to her bleeding husband.

The memory of the loss still burns white-hot in your mind and you say a quick prayer that your boys never have to experience any pain like that. It's just another reason that you adore the relationship that Soda and Ponyboy have and try to nurture it any way you can.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the sad thoughts and make your way to the kitchen. Tonight is spaghetti night, the boys' favorite, and you have to get it started if it will ever be ready by dinnertime. A loud burst of laughter from your middle son brings a smile to your face as you remember spending afternoons doing anything and everything with Lillian.

XxX

You finally sit down after serving your family their dinner and smile at your boys chatting at the end of the table. Ponyboy and Soda are talking about a game they were playing earlier and Darry simply smirks at them. You're about to ask Darrel how his day was when your oldest boy catches your attention.

"Geez, don't you guys ever think of nothin' but make-believe? Why don't you come out and play with me an' Paul when we're playin' football outside, Pone," Darry questions, clearly joking with his kid brothers.

Pony's gaze drops to his lap and you see tears glisten in them. He hates to disappoint his brothers and Darry's comment seems to have stung him. Soda watches his reaction closely and you know that he sees Pony's sadness.

Soda noticeably bristles and his cheeks turn bright red in anger. "Don't you get on his case none, Darry! If he wanted to play with ya, he woulda come outside. We was havin' fun in here without you and just 'cause you didn't get to play with us don't mean ya gotta poke fun at 'im!"

"Sodapop, don't yell at your brother," Darrel chides before turning his attention back to his dinner.

A smile grin tugs at your lips, but you do your best to force it away so you don't encourage Soda's behavior. You know that he shouldn't snap at Darry that way, but you also know firsthand how he feels. Whenever anyone had threatened Lillian, you jumped to her defense without hesitation, getting in several schoolyard fights for her.

Soda has always been exceptionally defensive of Ponyboy and tonight is no exception. Even though you knew perfectly well Darry hadn't meant any harm in what he said, Soda wouldn't tolerate it. You feel a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that Ponyboy will never come to any harm with two brothers that love him as much as they do.

"Hey, I didn't mean nothin' by it! Ponyboy, I'm sorry. Don't be upset, alright? Maybe tomorrow I can teach ya how to ride that new tricycle you got. How's that sound," Darry says quietly.

Ponyboy's green eyes light up and he nods vibrantly. "Okay, Darry!"

Soda surveys their conversation carefully and when he seems to decide that things are alright between the two of them, he relaxes back into his seat. The atmosphere relaxes and the boys begin discussing their plans for the rest of the weekend. Darrel looks up at you and smiles knowingly and you can't help but smirk back.

Your middle son reminds you more and more of yourself with every passing day. Though he can be the sweetest child you ever encounter, he has a temper to match – especially when it comes to his little brother. He may not be the brightest boy in Tulsa, but he has the ability to bring a smile to even the saddest of people and it's that gift that you admire. He's your son, Sodapop Curtis.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Only two chapters left, so hang in there. Again, I apologize for the ridiculously slow updating.


	6. Johnny

**A/N: **Only one more after this. Please be patient. I didn't have a beta read this, so any mistakes please forgive.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_.

* * *

><p>You're reading a book in the bedroom when a violent cough sounds from the living room. Frowning, you make your way out there wondering which of your boys has fallen ill this week. As you come into the living room, you see ten-year-old Johnny Cade sitting beside Ponyboy on the couch, talking quietly.<p>

While you stand there, unobserved, another fierce cough shakes the frame of the older boy and he rubs his throat gingerly.

"Johnny, you feelin' alright sweetheart?" You make your way into full view and walk over to where they're sitting, gently feeling his forehead for signs of a fever.

"Oh sure, Mrs. Curtis. I'm alright," he wheezes, wincing from the effort.

If the heat coming from his head is any indicator, you'd guess his fever is right around 103. Concern floods your system and you can't help but wonder why his mother isn't the one taking care of him right now. Shaking your head, you motion for him to stand up. "C'mon, hun. Let's get you down to bed and I'll go get you some hot soup. Then you're gonna take a good nap."

"I'll go get the afghan from the closet in your room, Mama," Pony declares, dashing down the hallway.

It's clear that Johnny's uncomfortable with the attention as he shifts his weight undecidedly.

"You know that it's no problem for you to stay here, don't you, Johnny," you ask softly, watching him carefully for a hint of what's holding him back.

"Yeah, I know that. Thanks."

"Would you rather have your mama come get you and let you rest at your house?" You're not sure what the problem is yet, but you can tell you're getting close.

"No, I don't wanna bother her no more right now. She's … she's not right today," he whispers, staring at his feet.

"What d'you mean 'she's not right'?"

"Well, you know how she was all excited 'bout the baby? 'Cause she was finally gonna have her little girl she's been wantin' … "

You patiently wait a few minutes, used to Johnny's discomfort with speaking. When he doesn't continue, you ask him, "Did something happen to your mama, Johnny?"

He shakes his head slowly and when he raises his black eyes to your face, you see confusion. "Somethin' happened to the baby. The other day she came home an' she says she ain't havin' one no more and not to ever mention it again. She was awful upset today, so I didn't wanna bother her none with my cough."

As you let his words sink in Johnny succumbs to another fit of racking coughs, making you wince at their ferocity. You shake aside the thoughts running through your mind and focus on the sick child in front of you.

"Well then you'll stay here. Go on down to Ponyboy's room. He's got some extra pajama's you can borrow in there. When I get down there I want to see you in bed and under those blankets, you hear me?"

He nods once before making his way slowly down the hall. You wait until the bedroom door closes before going to fix the chicken noodle soup, your mind racing from what he just told you. It was no secret that Frank and Grace Cade had wanted a baby girl, especially since the entire fiasco that had happened with Johnny.

It had been an "accident" she said, but nevertheless Grace had run around on Frank one time too many and wound up pregnant with Johnny. She passed him off as Frank's and many accepted that as the truth. It was clear to those that really took the time to look though that he was in no way that man's son.

That secret scandal was the root of several loud, window shaking fights that took place at the Cade residence and it made your heart ache to know that child grew up in that house.

A couple months ago when Grace announced to you and Ginny that she was pregnant and gleefully declared it was a girl, it seemed that peace had been restored to the Cade household. It was as if their dreams had come true and all of Grace's prayers answered. You resented the way Johnny was shoved to the side in the excitement, but you were hoping that the cheer would at least die down a bit.

Now, hearing that she had lost the baby, you know that things aren't going to get better for Johnny any time soon. You sigh sadly and grab the mug of hot soup for the youngster. Ponyboy's quiet voice comes from the other side of his bedroom door, reading from one of his countless books.

You smile and, though you hate to interrupt, push the door open with your foot. "Alright, Pony time to give Johnny a break."

He grins at you before turning back to his best buddy. "You feel better soon, Johnnycakes. I'll finish readin' this to ya later."

Johnny waves sadly before accepting the healthy lunch you prepared for him. "Thanks a lot, Mrs. Curtis. You didn't have to go through all this trouble for me 'er nothin'."

You raise your hand and smile warmly at him. "Now, Johnny it was no trouble at all and it never is. You can stay here just as long as you'd like, alright? Pony and Soda always love bein' able to bunk with Darry."

His weary eyes begin to droop as he nods slowly. "Alright, if you're sure. Thanks again."

"It's nothin' at all, honey. Here, give me that bowl before you spill it and you get some shut eye," you say as you set the mug on the nightstand.

Johnny instinctively cuddles into the blankets and you tuck him in around the edges. Leaning over, you gently kiss him on the forehead and smile as his cheeks turn even redder.

"I'll be in to check on you and see how that fever is doing, but you just keep on sleepin'."

He mumbles something quietly, but is already dozing off as you speak to him. You watch him for a moment longer, but the closing front door signals the arrival of your husband and you turn your attention back to your other family members.

"Gosh I'm starvin'," Darrel declares, stretching broadly in the kitchen.

You shake your head and laugh lightly. "Yeah, you usually are, aren't ya?"

Turning, he beams at you and plants a soft kiss on your lips. He begins sniffing the air and strokes his chin animatedly. "It smells like … chicken soup! Which of the boys is sick this time? Better not be Darry, he's got that game this weekend – "

"It's Johnny. Speaking of him, you and I need to talk after the boys go to bed," you say, lowering your voice as your three boys come barreling into the room.

Darrel nods seriously before turning his attention to the boys surrounding him. He picks Ponyboy up and flings him over his shoulder, earning loud and boisterous laughs from all four Curtis men. You smile and shake your head.

"Boys, keep it down a bit. Johnny's tryin' to sleep down in Pony's room."

Darry frowns. "Is he sick?"

"Yes, Darry. Just a cold though."

The laughter continues, but on a smaller scale and you can't help but think back to what Johnny said earlier about his mother and the baby.

XxX

"Well, the boys are all settled in and Johnny's temperature seems to be comin' down a bit," Darrel says, collapsing onto the couch beside you before throwing his arm behind you.

Snuggling closer to him, you mutter into his chest, "Gracie had a miscarriage. That's why Johnny's not at home."

Darrel tenses beside you and rubs a hand over his face. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think Johnny even knows exactly what's going on, but he knows enough that she's not having the baby anymore and doesn't want a word to be said about it."

"So she chased her only son out of the house 'cause she's upset? Yeah, that makes a whole lotta sense now don't it," he scoffs.

You push yourself away from him slightly so you can look him in the eyes, a strange feeling sparking inside of you. "Look I'm not saying I agree with what she did, but I certainly can understand this being hard for her. Especially since Frank was so happy for once."

"Amy, that don't matter none. Johnny is their boy and they need to treat him like it. He's one sick little guy right now and he can't even go home 'cause his mama don't want him there? That ain't right, I don't care what happened."

"Well what do you want to do about it then, Darrel? Send him over there now in the middle of the night?" You feel your temper flaring and try to reign it back in.

"No, I just think you oughta stop protectin' those good for nothin' Cades and let me go on down there and have a talk with Frank like I've been wantin' to! They don't treat their boy any better than a stray dog. He deserves real parents, Amy."

"I know that, Darrel. I agree and you know that too. I wish more than anything I could just shake Grace and make her see what she has right in front of her face. But that ain't gonna solve it. You and I _both_ know that. All we can do is give Johnny a home to come to." You pat the couch beside you and wait patiently for him to resume his seat.

After pacing a few minutes longer he rejoins you, huffing out a large breath as he sits. The topic of Johnny's parents is one of the few things that really get his blood boiling, but you know that it's because he can't understand them. Darrel can't see why two parents can't be satisfied with one happy, healthy young boy.

"Sweetheart, we're doin' all we can here. We've given him a house to come to and two parents to turn to when he needs us. But we can't make two people see things differently if they don't want to," you say quietly, rubbing his knee with your thumb.

"I know that, Amy. I just don't get it. Johnny's a good kid. It ain't right for boys like him to get thrown into somethin' like he has been. I'm sorry for hollerin' at you." He kisses you on your nose, earning a smile from you.

"It's alright. Just don't make it a habit," you kid, nudging him gently with your elbow.

A quiet fit of coughing catches your attention and you both glance down the hallway. Sighing, you shove yourself off of the couch and make your way to where Johnny's resting. You push the door open and poke your head inside the dark room.

"Do you need some more water, Johnny?"

"Yeah, I think I ran out. I'm sorry if I woke ya up, Mrs. Curtis," his soft voice calls out.

There's something else in his voice that catches your attention and you sit beside him on the bed. "Johnny, are you feelin' alright or is somethin' else wrong?"

"Oh no, I'm doin' alright."

Though it's dark, you fix him with one of your knowing looks and he shifts under the stare. Finally Johnny heaves a gentle sigh and whispers, "I heard you and Mr. Curtis fightin'. I don't want y'all to argue 'cause of my parents."

You grab his hand and squeeze it gently. "Johnny you listen to me, alright? None of this is your fault. Do you understand me? _Nothing_. Mr. Curtis and I are just sad that your parents aren't taking care of you right now."

"Well I can go on home in the morning, I don't mind."

"No, no, no. Honey that's not what I mean," you reason. "I meant even though your mama is sad about losing her baby, she shouldn't take it out on you. She should realize just how important and special you are more than ever. Do you understand that?"

He's quiet for a minute before whispering, "You think I'm special?"

Tears begin to prick the back of your eyes at his words and you pull Johnny to you, wrapping him in a gentle hug. There's nothing you want more right now than to erase all of his doubts, all of his fears, and just make him see that he is indeed an important and wonderful young boy. All you can do is somehow try to tell him that he matters. "Johnny Cade, you are more special than you will ever understand. Don't you ever, _ever_ let anyone make you think otherwise. You hear me?"

You can feel him smile against your shoulder and then nods slowly. "Thanks, Mrs. Curtis. I think I can go back to sleep now, if that's alright."

"I think that's a good idea, sweetheart. I'll just put the glass of water on your nightstand. You need anything you come wake me up, alright?"

"Okay. G'night," he mumbles lightly, nestling into the sheets once more.

You stand in the doorway, watching him sleep soundly and feel your heart lurch. If only Johnny had been your son, or even Sarah Randle's. At least he would have grown up with parents that truly loved him. Darrel silently joins you and pulls you to him.

"We'll do whatever we can for him, Amy. I'll make sure he gets a real upbringin'."

Smiling warmly at him, you reply, "I know you will, baby. C'mon, let's get some sleep."

The dark boy with the wide eyes touches your heart with his pain. You know he has a long road in front of him, but you hope that his luck will change. Every night you say a special prayer for the young boy, silently wishing for him to gain both strength and courage from his position. You love him like your own. He's your son, Johnny Cade.

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><p><strong>AN: **And of course, I'll be ending this with Ponyboy and hopefully soon. I'm just trying to get these out there for you guys and then I will be working on some other stuff, potentially(;


	7. Ponyboy

**A/N: **Please take the time to read the bottom A/N. Otherwise, enjoy the final installment of this story.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_.

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><p>So far, the first day of the New Year has been a quiet one. The house is calm except for the occasional clearing of the throat coming from thirteen-year-old Ponyboy's bedroom. Darrel has taken Soda and Darry out for a "men's day out" and even though he knows he isn't old enough to go along, Ponyboy is sulking.<p>

You smile thinking about his stubborn nature and hear an unexpected laugh come from his bedroom. Creeping down the hall you hesitate outside of his door and watch as he plays with his new puppy, Rocket. Ponyboy had been dying to have a dog for the longest time, so Darrel had picked one up for him for Christmas.

"Pony, would you like a snack," you ask gently, stepping into view.

He contemplates the question for a minute before a smirk grows on his face. "Sure, Mama. What d'you have?"

Already you see where this is going. There's only one piece of pumpkin pie left in the entire house and you know he has had his eyes on it. Normally Darry will inhale any in sight with Soda not far behind, but with them out of the house, it's free game.

"How about a piece of pumpkin pie and a nice, big glass of milk?"

The teen beams at you and nods. "Alright, sure! That'll teach 'em to leave me home alone."

You laugh at his train of thought, but don't miss the flicker of sadness in his bright green eyes. "Come on now, my sweet colt. You know that your daddy just took your brothers out because it's almost Darry's birthday and he promised to take them to a race."

He crosses his arms and reminds you distinctly of Lillian. "I'm not a kid. I coulda gone too."

Tucking your legs underneath you, you sit beside him on the floor. It's not the first time Ponyboy has been jealous of his brother's relationship with their father and it's something you wish you could remedy easier. He just wasn't old enough yet to go to the races with them, talk about girls, or learn how to shave. Things that sounded silly, but clearly weren't to a young teenager like Ponyboy.

"I know, baby. Look at it this way, Soda and Darry have to share Dad's attention. You get me all to yourself today!"

Ponyboy silently thinks it over and you see him smile a little bit. You decide to tease him while his mood is up. "Oh c'mon. I know I'm not _that _bad. As a matter of fact, I thought I was a pretty tuff old bird."

He bursts out laughing and you can't help but join him. You love the sound of your laughter melting together, warming you both from the January chill that has crept through the house.

"Tell you what, why don't you and Rocket come on out to the kitchen and have your pie. Then you and me can curl up on the couch and I'll read a few more chapters of _Tom Sawyer_ to you. How does that sound?"

"That sounds nice, Mama." He smiles warmly at you and you feel your heart simply melt.

You head out to the kitchen and serve the pie on a plate, pouring a large glass of milk to go with it. Ponyboy eats the slice slowly, savoring every bite. He is so different from Soda and Darry that it sometimes startles you.

While his brothers are fascinated with things like sports, cars, and girls, your youngest would rather sit in the house and read or join you in watching a sunset. He's much quieter than the others and hides his intelligence behind the silences. It makes your mind spin when you think of all he knows already and the places that knowledge will take him in life.

It will get him out of this damn town and make something out of him. You see his talents – the drawings, the stories, the deep thoughts – and know that they will be put to good use. But at the same time his innocence and dreamy nature scares you.

You're afraid that it will hurt him one day, that someone will somehow find a way to use it against him or worse, something should happen to destroy that innocence. Though you do the best you can with him, you're afraid of kind-hearted Ponyboy travelling a road similar to Dally's.

"Mama? You alright?"

His concerned voice breaks through your daydream and you shake your head gently to clear your mind. "Oh I'm fine, sweetie. Just thinkin' some errands I gotta get done. I'll go get the book and blanket ready."

"Okay!"

While you dig the items out of your closet, you notice Rocket's head hanging a bit low and he looks listless. Frowning, you feel the pup's nose and notice it's dry and warm.

"What's wrong, Rocky," you croon, gently stroking his fur and earning a small whimper in return.

"I'm ready, Mama!"

Smiling, you pick the puppy up in your arms and with your load in hand head out to the living room to spend some quality time with your unique young boy.

XxX

The family is eating a larger dinner tonight because the other boys are all at the house as well. Thankfully you've learned by now to make more than enough, just in case one or all of the others decides to drop in unexpectedly.

Ponyboy is helping you wash dishes when you notice he's staring at the puppy lying on the kitchen floor. "Ma, I think Rocket's sick. He's not actin' right."

"Ya know, I reckon you're right, Pony. He hasn't been movin' around too much tonight. Maybe I'll talk to your dad and we can take 'im to the vet's."

"Would you do it tonight, Mama? I don't want 'im sick already when he's only a few months old in case it's somethin' bad. 'Sides, I thought I heard you say you were gonna go out and buy some presents for Darry tonight anyways." He blushes a bit at this and you rub his arm gently to reassure him.

"Let me talk to your dad about it, but I think we could probably take him tonight if you want."

"Good. Thanks, Ma."

You kiss the top of his head and shoo him out of the kitchen, telling him that he oughta go enjoy himself with his friends. He grins thankfully and hurries to where Johnny is watching TV quietly. You smile at the friendship that sprung up between the two boys almost instantly, glad that the two quietest boys in the group at least have someone else to confide in.

As you quickly work through the dishes, you think about the gifts you want to pick up for Darry. There's that nice new jacket he's been eyeing at Gordon's Sporting Goods and then a new pair of shoes for when he starts up at college and finally Darrel is giving him his father's watch. Overall, you feel pleased knowing that Darry's twentieth birthday won't be a depleted one.

A wheeze from the golden retriever draws your attention and you call out to your husband. "Darrel, come on in here for a minute, would ya?"

His plush recliner groans as he lifts himself out and comes to join you in the straightening of the kitchen. "What's up, darlin'?"

"Pony wants us to run Rocket in to the vet's when we pick up those presents for Darry. You think we could do that?"

He considers for a moment before rolling his eyes playfully. "Well of course. It ain't out of the way, so we'll do it on the way to the store, alright?"

You stand on your toes and kiss him softly. "Sounds good to me. Just let me wash up real quick."

Ten minutes later you're ready to go. Darrel hooks Rocket up to his leash and you give all of your boys a kiss with instructions for the night.

"Dally, put on your jacket for me before you go out there. It's gonna be cold one tonight."

A smirk and a glance at the leather jacket you bought him for his last birthday. "Sure thing, Mrs. C."

"Don't forget to give your dad the leftovers from dinner, Steve."

"Alright, Mrs. Curtis."

"Two-Bit, tell your mother I'll have Bonnie's dress fixed by Wednesday."

"Sure thing!"

"Why don't you have another glass of milk before you go to bed, Johnny? You look a little pale."

A slight blush appears before a mumbled, "Thanks, Mrs. Curtis."

Then you turn your attention to the last three who are all patiently awaiting their evening instructions. It makes you smile as you do it anyways.

"Darry, make sure Pony and Soda are in bed by ten."

"Yes, Ma."

"Soda, please don't forget to brush your teeth again."

A grin and then a cheekish, "Oh alright, Mom!"

Last is Ponyboy who is staring worriedly after his prized pup. "Don't you worry 'bout him, Pony sweetheart. We'll get him feelin'. Now you mind your brothers and don't forget to brush your teeth as well."

"I know, I know, Mama. Love you." He wraps you in a firm hug and you return it willingly.

That's one thing that he has always been unashamed of doing, even in front of the guys, is showing affection to you and his father. You tousle his hair gently and with that, are on your way.

XxX

"Do we _finally _have everything," Darrel whines from the driver's seat, winking dramatically as he pulls up to the red light.

"I think so. We got the medicine for Rocket, the presents are in the trunk, and I grabbed some more ingredients to make another pie so poor Soda could actually get a slice this time around," you rattle off as you count the items on your fingers.

He chuckles and nods his head. "Yeah, me too!"

"Oh stop that. You had just about as many as Darry did last time around."

Both of you laugh and Rocket whines sleepily in the backseat. Darrel sticks his hand backwards to stroke the pathetic pup.

"It's alright, Rocket-boy. We'll getcha feelin' better in no time."

You chuckle at the tender voice he uses whenever talking to the dog. No matter how tough and firm your husband can be, he has a massive soft spot for animals. The light turns green and Darrel pulls slowly forward, turning around in his seat as he does it.

Neither of you see it coming.

There's a moment of blinding white light before the sound of metal crushing metal fills your ears. Burning rubber overpowers your sense of smell and you scream in both pain and fear. Darrel cries out your name, but in the brightness you can't find him. After what seems like hours, the earsplitting metallic noise finally stops with a final loud crunch.

As the car comes to a halt, the pain in your body explodes like a fire. You try to turn your head, but find you can't and instead settle for searching the scene with your eyes. The truck that hit you has pushed your car into a tree. The other driver is slouched over his steering wheel and isn't moving.

Ignoring the pain and the way you have to gasp for air, you turn your body in order to see your husband. The silence coming from his side of the car is a bad sign and you know it, but you make yourself look. He is motionless, blood pouring in a steady stream from endless cuts on his forehead and cheeks.

The situation is bad and you know it. Another gasp and you force yourself to look over your body. Blood is steadily seeping through your blouse from an unknown source and you get lightheaded at the sight. Closing your eyes, you try to focus on breathing, but find that it's becoming harder with every moment.

A cop has to drive by here, you think desperately. One just has to come. But as the minutes tick away slowly, no one drives past. It's late and hardly anyone is out tonight. You'll just have to wait.

Tears spring to your eyes and pour down your cheeks as you let out the anguish you feel. Rocket is silent in the backseat and you think of poor Ponyboy. He loved that dog so much and now this. Thoughts of your youngest bring thoughts of the others along.

You don't really know how you came to the conclusion you were dying, but it sinks in your stomach like a lead weight. There were so many things you should have told your husband, told your boys that you never will have the chance to. What will happen to them?

Darry will be strong and you know that without a doubt. Thoughts of him bring stabs of pain to your chest, but you force them from your mind and imagine your eldest son's smile. He will hold them all together because that's what you've taught him to do.

Then there's Two-Bit. You try to laugh at the thought of his pranks and jokes, but instead begin coughing uncontrollably. There's the distinct copper taste in your mouth that you push away and instead think of Two-Bit, hoping that one day he will be able to settle himself down and see that he can be so much more than his father's son.

When Dally's face springs to mind, you let out an audible cry and let more tears fall. He has depended on you so heavily throughout the past years and you fear for what this will do to him. You know he has a heart of gold, but you know that he has been taught to hide it. You feel your heart break as you realize that in the very real future, Dally will probably join you and your husband.

Steve and his father have already been having their issues and you fear that Tom's losing his best friend, Darrel, might just drive that distance even further. You know that Steve is a smart kid and it pains you to think of him growing up without a mother figure of some sort, but you know that he will get through it with Soda's support.

Your breath is coming is short gasps as you think about Sodapop. Your golden child with the brightest smile you've ever seen. He'll keep them together and happy, no matter what he may be feeling inside. He's truly your boy and you hope that your spirit can live on in him.

Thinking of Johnny chokes you up and you find it hard to hold your eyes open. You try to focus on the image of the dark teenager with the fearful look in his eyes. You quickly say a silent prayer that he finds the bravery deep down that you see in him and uses it to get himself out of Tulsa.

Your eyes slowly shut for the last time as thoughts of your youngest boy flood your mind. His brains and his determination will take him far in life and it saddens you to think that you'll never get to see his success. He will get out of Tulsa and be someone you know without a doubt.

You release your last breath and the last thing you feel is a sense of peace knowing that his brothers will help get him there. He's your son, Ponyboy Curtis.

The End.

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><p><strong>AN: **Alright, so I'm very proud of this story and I hope that you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. A couple housekeeping things and then I'm off.

1) The next story that I am working on will be a six chapter look into what Soda thought and experienced while Ponyboy was missing. Props to TaylorPaige24 for inspiring me to do this(;

2) I have both a Steve story and a Ponyboy one in mind. Give me some time and hopefully you will see them up. Keep an eye on my profile for information on these stories and anything else FF related.

As always, thanks for reading this stuff. It means the world to hear your thoughts and know that I have people that read my work. It's awesome, you guys are all fantastic, and I will hopefully be putting the first chapter of _My Darkest Days_ up in the next couple of weeks.

Thank you all so very much!

-Independence Undervalued.


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